


Elysium

by zolarnite



Series: the songs that went unheard [2]
Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Even In Death, Fate & Destiny, Fluff, Forgiveness, Happy Ending, M/M, Mistakes, Soulmates, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:55:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27878709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zolarnite/pseuds/zolarnite
Summary: “Achilles,” Patroclus breathes out and the fingers move to cradle his face, warmth presses into Patroclus. Achilles’ breath stutters, eyes fluttering close before dipping down, mouth open like a sweet trap.(Achilles and Patroclus' reunion in Elysium, their gift from the fates.)
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus (Song of Achilles)
Series: the songs that went unheard [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2039569
Comments: 2
Kudos: 88





	Elysium

The wind blew softly as the bees and butterflies fluttered around. Soft grassy blades tickle his feet, his honey skin mixing with the wet earth. Yet those strong feet carry the youth over the hills and towards the mountain home. His breathing is soft, hands clutched around the stems of fragrance. A smile of pure adoration graces upon his lips as he bounds onward, billowing golden locks chasing after him. The muscles ripple with exertion as the smooth stone comes into view. The animal hide flaps lowly against the mouth of the cave, a soft glow emitting from within. 

“Patroclus,” the youth calls, eyes of green jade sparkling under the setting sun. 

A smaller lad steps out from the covers of warmth and he approaches. The golden youth skips forward, energy crackling with anticipation before he holds out his hands; in them rests beautiful dappled flowers, all sorts of colors. Dark chocolate eyes widen, a slow pink hue spreading across his cheeks. His fingertips lift, tentative and shy, closing around the soft thorn plucked stems. The petals seem to bloom under his touch, their soft silky touch curving against the stroke of his fingers. 

“For me?” The question is a soft breath, suspended and in awe. The swirls in his eyes dance, adoration and love bared in the open. The taller youth brushes his fingers against the shorter's cheek, feeling the soft kisses of eyelash as Patroclus’ eyes flutter. 

“Achilles,” Patroclus breathes out and the fingers move to cradle his face, warmth presses into Patroclus. Achilles’ breath stutters, eyes fluttering close before dipping down, mouth open like a sweet trap. Gentle, warm presses, mouth waning open under the other in clear submission. The flame of souls flare in bright flickers of red and gold, simmering down into an eternal burn. They separate, lips red and gleaming, shining with slick spit. Their eyes shine with love, hands intertwined in a close embrace. The flowers that hang from Patroclus’ fingertips, fall; favoring to twist a golden curl around his finger and press a soft kiss to the other’s jaw. The flowers lay forgotten against the dirt floor, for neither boy turns to look, instead lost in their own world. 

“You’re here,” the emerald eyes dim with sadness, his grip tightening with fear. 

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” his voice was soft, drowning in sorrow that he carried. Patroclus only smiles, eyes misty but happy. 

“I forgive you.” 

“I’m _never_ leaving you again,” Patroclus squeezes their intertwined hands, he kisses the shell of Achilles’ ear, tipping up to whisper.

“You won’t need to.” This was death, the last stage where they would spend the rest of their souls. They had crossed the threshold and into Elysium, a place where they’ll both live in peace and harmony, reveling in the other’s presence. 

This was enough, all they wanted. The fates were done playing their games, they have had their fun. Their mountainside home, once in Pelion, where now the only sign of them is the memories the old centaur carries, and the whispers in the wind. The soft delicate ears of the centaur lifts up, his face softening into a mellow smile. 

“Be well Achilles, Patroclus.” And the wind sweeps aways, carrying the news to the rest, flowers blooming in its wake. 

_‘reunited and never to part.’_


End file.
